


Umaapaw

by cobalamincosel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, First Dates, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobalamincosel/pseuds/cobalamincosel
Summary: “Is this okay?” Johnny leans in to whisper.“What is?” Mark answers back, turning his face up to look at Johnny. His eyes are filled with the Milky Way from Johnny’s vantage point.“That I’m touching you like this,” Johnny says, giving Mark’s hip a squeeze. Mark’s hand is still resting on it, fingers not quite intertwined, but securely there, still. Purposeful.Mark turns in Johnny’s arms, and tiptoes so that Johnny can hear him clearly. “I gotta be honest, dude, I’ve been waiting all week for you to touch me like this.”
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 56
Kudos: 284





	Umaapaw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whitenoisce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitenoisce/gifts), [bigdamnher0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigdamnher0/gifts), [annyeonghaseye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annyeonghaseye/gifts).



> For Andy, Chan and Lea, for always putting up with my atenista jm BS and just being wonderful in general. <3 
> 
> Please play the music if you wanna get the ~vibe~
> 
> Translations for stuff in the end notes!

_Umaapaw, overflowing_

Johnny can’t stop checking his phone, and it’s starting to piss Yuta off. It doesn’t help that Johnny’s leg keeps shaking under the table.

Route’s too cramped, but then again, what’s Route without the haze of cigarettes and the smell of beer and everyone being packed in too close?

“Will you relax?” Yuta says, leaning back and taking a swig of his Red Horse. “What time did you tell him to meet you at?”

“Like, 10:30?” Johnny says, unlocking his phone again and trying very hard to not send yet another follow-up message.

“It’s only 10:15, man,” Yuta says, patting him consolingly on the arm. "Please chill out."

He should have insisted on picking Mark up. He’s probably having a hard time getting a taxi from the dorms or something, except that Mark had told him himself that he’d handle getting to the gig from Cervini.

Johnny can’t help being jittery. Maybe this was a bad idea for a first date, but he’d thought that since this was a little more Mark’s scene, and a bunch of AMP buddies are here, Mark would feel a little less pressured about being asked out by a senior.

He messes with his hair again, pulling his cap off, running his fingers through the sweat that’s gathering on his scalp, and plops the cap on backward.

“Dude,” Yuta says, shoving the pack of Ice Blasts closer to Johnny’s hand. “Go outside, you need a break.”

Johnny had wanted to kind of hold off on the chain-smoking tonight, but he’s so nervous about him and Mark not hitting it off, or him accidentally saying something that offends Mark, or crossing a line or reading the signs wrong that he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to handle anything without nicotine in his system, so he claps Yuta on the shoulder, grabs the silver Zippo and the pack of cigarettes and makes his way through the tight crowd waiting for Ourselves the Elves to perform.

The highlight for tonight is Ang Bandang Shirley, and Mark had been really excited when Johnny had asked him at the AMP bench if he wanted to watch them together, so Johnny’s hoping that at the very least, Mark isn’t gonna ghost him. God, maybe Johnny’s texts aren’t going through. Cervini’s Globe signal sucks ass.

He stands outside, bathing him in the yellow and orange light as he finds a spot near one of the Montero Sports parked nearby, and lights one up. The crowd has spilled over to the outside area, the doors to Route 196 thrown wide open so the music filters out onto the street.

Johnny takes a long drag, popping the little menthol ball in the filter and letting the nicotine high hit him. He holds it there, a few seconds, and breathes out.

Okay. It’s gonna be okay. Mark’s gonna come over, and they’re gonna stand in the crowd and jam to _Shirley_ and hopefully, hopefully, best care scenario, Mark will be willing to go out with him again. Somewhere quieter. Maybe Johnny can take him to Chocolate Kiss, let him try the carbonara there, maybe share a slice of cake—

“Johnny?”

Johnny turns around and chokes on his inhale just as he sees Mark approach him with his bleached hair tucked under a cap like Johnny’s, the sleeves of his too-large green hoodie pushed up around his elbows, the spectacles slipping on his nose bridge. _Oh my God,_ Johnny thinks. _He is so fucking cute._

“Mark! Hey!” Johnny says, before he realizes he still has a burning cigarette in his hand. He doesn’t even know if Mark minds the smell. God, he’s already fucking this date up.

“I’m sorry I only just got here,” Mark says, a little bashful. “It was a bitch trying to get a cab. I should have taken you up on your offer for a ride but I didn’t wanna bother you at the last minute.”

Johnny’s about to put his cigarette out when Mark says, “Hey, can I bum one off you? I didn’t have time to pop into seven-eleven.”

Johnny says, “Oh yeah, for sure,” and hands him one before pulling the lighter out and bringing it closer to Mark’s face.

There’s nothing that can prepare Johnny for the stupidly horny, charged moment that lighting his crush’s cigarette brings, but it’s like he’s watching it in slow-mo, like one of those pretentious indie movies Jaehyun’s always screening in the LFC room, the ones that look desaturated where the protagonist mumbles his way through three-fourths of the fucking film.

Mark’s eyes close as he takes a drag, and Johnny’s left to stare at him like a dog in heat while he gets tunnel vision and the noise of the music and the crowd are filtered out into white noise.

“Dude, you okay?” Mark asks, and then reality comes crashing back.

“Uh,” Johnny says smartly, like the intelligent Atenean that he is. “Uh yeah, yeah, no definitely next time I’ll pick you up from the dorm.”

Mark’s lips quirk into a smile. “Next time?”

Johnny catches himself. _Oh my God, these aren’t Philo orals,_ gago, _get yourself together!!!_

“Ah, I mean,” Johnny laughs nervously. “Depending on how tonight goes, you know?”

Mark smiles wider, and takes another drag before exhaling the puff of smoke. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

Okay so here’s the thing. This is a date. He’d asked Mark if he wanted to go together, but he’s not entirely sure that _Mark_ knows it’s a date. It sounds like Mark thinks this is a date, but Johnny’s not confident that he’s like, equipped to make that call right now since he can’t exactly think straight.

Haha. Think straight. He hasn’t been able to think straight since meeting Mark at the AMP bench, watching him with his black acoustic guitar, laughing along to something Trixie had said.

God. If Chantal could see Johnny now, she’d probably make fun of him. But then again she made fun of him for everything, which is why she’s his ex.

“Yo, it looks pretty packed in there,” Mark says, taking the last drag out of his cigarette and crossing his leg at the knee, balancing on one foot and holding his hand out to grip Johnny’s forearm while he puts the light out. “Are we gonna be able to like, find a table or something?”

“Yuta’s in there, actually,” Johnny says, nodding toward the row of windows where the crowd isn’t as concentrated. “The rest of the gang’s scattered inside though, but I’m sure we’ll bump into them once Owen’s on the mic.”

Mark perks up. “Fuck dude, I’m excited. It’s my first time seeing _Shirley_ live.”

“You know, it’s really nice to know you dig the local music scene too,” Johnny says, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s got no idea what he’s supposed to do with them. He wants to reach out, maybe sling his arm around Mark’s shoulders. “Let’s grab you a beer?”

Mark smiles up at him, and tugs on the sleeve of Johnny’s t-shirt. “Yeah, I’m thirsty.”

Johnny cuts through the crowd pretty easily, towering over everyone else.

Mark’s hand is in his, intended to guide him through the wall of bodies and sound since Ourselves the Elves is performing at the moment. He’s tempted to stay in the throng, honestly. _Cincinnati Clocks_ is [playing](https://open.spotify.com/track/0Lcc3zKpU9RcIqwnYGh6GF?si=RMqZlrBORq2D-omwTsiW5g) and people are swaying to the little happy beat. Johnny remembers hearing the song for the first time on shuffle and thinking of summer days on campus, the scent of the trees blowing through Sec Walk.

They make their way to Yuta who’s got Taeyong next to him, the pair of them holding hands and sipping at their beer.

“Yong, this is Mark,” Johnny says over the thumping bass drum while Taeyong and Mark fist bump. “Mark, this is Yuta’s boyfriend, Taeyong.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mark shouts over the din, slipping onto the couch next to Yuta. “Hey, Yuta.”

“Finally,” Yuta teases. “You had him on edge all night,” he yells, nodding at Johnny, who is contemplating murder in the three seconds it takes to have Yuta throw him under the bus. Infuriatingly, Yuta just winks at Johnny as he takes his place next to Mark. “Glad you made it, Markie!”

Yuta and Mark know each other from the Ateneo Musician’s Pool already, but Taeyong’s in the Company of Ateneo Dancers, so this is his first time meeting Mark. The thing that Johnny loves about Taeyong though is how easy he makes things for new people. He’s lived here for most of his life, his family having moved to Manila when he was five. He’s the most local out of all of them, and he was a godsend when Johnny had been lost and overwhelmed as a freshman, trying to figure out his way through campus.

“So you’re a creative writing major, right?” Taeyong asks over the music.

“Yeah, me and like, fifteen others,” Mark laughs. Johnny hides his smile behind his beer bottle. There really aren’t that many CW majors here, and Johnny himself is a SOSS boy. “But it’s nice! Challenging.”

“That’s cool,” Yuta says, leaning back and slinging his arm around Taeyong’s waist. “At least you don’t have to deal with us being irritating and pedantic on the regular.”

“You’re not gonna tell me that not all SOM boys are irritating and pedantic?” Mark replies, making Yuta laugh out loud.

“Dude, SOM boys, SOSE boys, they’re all varying degrees of that,” Yuta says. “Half of SOSS, too, if we’re being honest.”

“Just say you hate Atenistas and go, asshole,” Johnny laughs, and Mark laughs along, smacking Johnny’s knee once, twice, before reaching out to take a swig of the Red Horse he’d been offered.

Johnny marvels at how Mark holds his own with his friends, and realizes belatedly that he’d gone about this all wrong. Most dates happen with just two people before meeting the rest of the friend group, but listening to Mark laughing with his two best friends, watching his nose scrunch up when Yuta tells him about the time he and Johnny had gotten shitfaced in Drew’s, watching his shoulders relax more and more, his hand lingering on Johnny’s thigh, relaxing into Johnny’s side when he leans back in laughter.

Johnny’s been crushing on him since he’d heard Mark sing, has tried spending time with him at the AMP bench enough that things aren’t too awkward here, but God, is Johnny smitten.

Mark laughs with his entire body, stomping one Converse-clad foot on the floor and pitching himself forward when he does. He looks at Johnny and for a split second, Johnny thinks that he sees the same wonder he holds for Mark reflected in Mark’s eyes, but he can’t be too sure.

They decide to order another bucket of Red Horse before Mark leans in and asks Johnny if he’d like something stronger.

“I’m kind of a whiskey guy,” Mark says sheepishly. “I like the beer but I was wondering if you’d like to get a shot with me?”

Johnny can barely contain the smile on his face.

“It’s like you’re speaking my language,” Johnny says, holding back the ‘baby’ that almost threatens to slip out.

There’s no wait staff so Mark stands up, brushing crumbs of nachos off his jeans, before holding his hand out to Johnny, who looks at it, stunned, before taking it and rising up to follow him. One glance at his friends shows them eyeing the hand-holding before Yuta winks at him and shoos them off.

Mark’s hand is warm in Johnny’s, and they make their way to the dimly-lit bar where the bartender in a tight black t-shirt with “CUT CLASS NOT TREES” emblazoned all over the front in neon green comes up to take their order.

“Pare, one bucket of beer please,” Johnny says, pulling out his wallet. “And two shots of whiskey. On the rocks?” Johnny asks, turning his attention to Mark.

“Yeah, on the rocks for me,” Mark shouts, the music louder out here than where they were seated.

Mark leans against the counter, his elbows resting on them. Johnny’s standing behind Mark, and he hazards putting a hand on Mark’s hip, his heart racing, before Mark steps closer, his hand resting on top of Johnny’s.

Everything is too warm, too loud, too blurry. He’s only two beers in but he feels heady just having Mark standing so close to him—so close Johnny can actually lean in and smell Mark’s shampoo since he’d left his cap on the table, some floral scent that isn’t overpowering.

“Is this okay?” Johnny leans in to whisper.

“What is?” Mark answers back, turning his face up to look at Johnny. His eyes are filled with the Milky Way from Johnny’s vantage point.

“That I’m touching you like this,” Johnny says, giving Mark’s hip a squeeze. Mark’s hand is still resting on it, fingers not quite intertwined, but securely there, still. Purposeful.

Mark turns in Johnny’s arms, and tiptoes so that Johnny can hear him clearly. “I gotta be honest, dude, I’ve been waiting all week for you to touch me like this.”

Johnny lets out a long, long exhale, closes his eyes, and rests his forehead on top of Mark’s mop of hair. “Jesus Christ, Mark Lee.” He has to swallow the wave of want that courses through him in that instant.

Mark pulls back when their order arrives, taking both glasses of whiskey with him while Johnny sighs and takes the bucket in his hands.

They make their way back to where they’re seated, Ourselves the Elves’ set coming to a close with a song Johnny vaguely recognizes.

There’s a girl talking to Taeyong now, her arms defined in a way that tells Johnny she’s probably one of the volleyball players on their Lady Eagles team, and sure enough she’s introduced to them as Anisa Valdes.

He and Mark take their seats again, but this time Mark turns his body in to face Johnny more.

“So, Johnny Suh,” Mark says, taking a sip from his glass. “What do you do when you’re not hanging out in Route or working on your thesis or chatting up people at the AMP bench?”

“Excuse me, I do not just chat people up at the AMP bench,” Johnny says. “Only you.”

Mark smiles, and ducks his head. “Haha whaaaat?” Mark’s cheekbones are so defined. Johnny wants nothing more than to kiss them.

“I’m serious though, like,” Johnny says, taking a long sip of his whiskey for courage. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as bold as when I asked you out.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe, Mr. _Campus Cutie_ ,” Mark laughs, and it’s such a low, warm one that it washes over Johnny like the whiskey they’re both drinking.

“Dude, I dated a blockmate in first year and it was fun while it lasted but he was the one who asked me out,” Johnny says. “And Chantal, my ex, essentially dared me to take her to the UP Fair because I’d lost a drinking game against her. So. You know, me approaching you was a big deal for me.”

Mark’s eyes grow wide in the dim lighting, the happy shock registering there and Johnny’s helpless in the face of it, especially when the smile on his lips make Mark’s cheeks apple the way that they do.

Johnny has half a mind to lean in. He could, he thinks. If what Mark had said earlier was anything to go by, but they’re interrupted by the announcement that _Ang Bandang Shirley_ is up next, and Mark shoots Johnny an excited look.

“Do you mind if we stand closer for this?” Mark asks.

“Of course not,” Johnny says, and nods to Yuta and Taeyong that they’ll be moving. His friends will be fine.

They both finish off their whiskey and reach for a bottle of beer each before Johnny takes Mark’s hand, fingers slipping in between his like they’ve been doing this all year, like it’s nothing, like it’s easy. They squeeze through the crowd. Johnny finds them a spot close to the post so they’re in front of the band, and Johnny doesn’t have to block anyone’s view with his body. He stands behind Mark, hands resting on Mark’s shoulders as Owel introduces the group, and the opening riff to [Single Bed](https://open.spotify.com/track/3tb3o3kgLfzrIimg0qkOZk?si=3CFrVasgQFqXkN5MdYzXjA) starts playing.

Mark’s bobbing his head along to the music, swaying a little, eyes fixed on the group. He’s singing along, and Johnny dares to step in closer, before Mark’s hand tugs on Johnny’s, and before Johnny realizes it, Mark’s pulling Johnny’s arm across his clavicles in a one-armed embrace.

 _“Your attentions, textbook alien bluff,_ ” Johnny sings along. “ _Safe as always. Do you really think it's enough?”_

The strobe lights flash across their faces and over the crowd that dances along to the music. Johnny holds Mark close like he’s his lover, and the hand on his forearm is reassuring.

Neither of them are fluent in the language most of these songs are sung in, but that doesn’t stop either of them from singing along. Johnny should be nervous, he should be scared shitless, really. He and Mark have known each other for only a month, and talking had been easy from day one, but it’s crazy how every day that they’ve been in each other’s orbit, albeit casually, has been a dream for him.

The [next song](https://open.spotify.com/track/7pCKOeBRkfJb61ImYU2qKu?si=O0P5n_dfQRmUe9XITTAvjg)starts up, and it’s one whose lyrics he’d looked up, a song that Mark had said was his favorite when he’d learned what the song meant.

 _“Kahit sandali lang, basta’t makasama ka_ ,” the lead sings, strumming his electric guitar. _“Kahit mamaya-maya lang, ako’y uuwi na.”_

 _Even just for a short time, as long as I’m with you, even if I have to go home soon,_ seem like fitting lines for them and their budding relationship—the long hours spent on Mateo Ricci’s second floor, or just along the stone seats of Sec Walk, the two of them hanging out with each other, or with their friends.

Johnny pulls Mark in closer, closer until no space exists between Mark’s back and Johnny’s chest, and Mark’s hair tickles Johnny’s chin while they both sway to the music, both of Johnny’s arms around Mark now, Mark’s fingers tapping along to the beat.

“Basta’t makasama ka, ako’y nakauwi na,” Johnny leans in and sings, close to Mark’s ear, and Mark beams up at him.

Johnny worries for a moment that this is too much, that he’s moving too fast, but something about tonight, something about standing in a crowd in the middle of Route 196 with a beer in his hand and his arms around Mark, something about listening to a foreign band that they both love, something about the way Mark leans back into him and holds on while his nods his head and sings lyrics that sound natural and practiced in his mouth—something that makes tonight feel magical, like anything can happen.

Johnny pulls Mark’s cap off and closes his eyes and buries his nose in Mark’s hair, inhaling the smell of flowers and sweat, and just lets the music fill his senses, basks in how solid Mark is in his arms, and allows himself to forget about his thesis, about his hesitation that Mark wouldn’t like him back, about his worry that Mark wouldn’t know this was a date.

He takes in the moment, scans his eyes across the room and sees familiar faces, catching Yuta and Taeyong’s eyes from the other end, where Yuta gives Johnny a thumbs up, and Taeyong winks at him.

The band plays several more songs until the set winds down and they close with Johnny’s [favorite song](https://open.spotify.com/track/4UOfFouPDw0AqVWijbW2ea?si=gzt5y7qGROGzu0_ZtufXVg), one Mark isn’t as familiar with, but one that Johnny sings along to under his breath while he moves his arms from Mark’s shoulders to wind around his waist, and the bridge hits just as Mark slips his fingers to intertwine with Johnny’s again.

 _“Pagkagising, panaginip ang dumalaw,”_ they sing, and Johnny can see it—days that spiral out before him, picking Mark up to go to Maginhawa, meeting up outside Cervini to jog with him on weekends, maybe even a road trip to Tagaytay if Mark’s willing.

Johnny suddenly sees the entirety of the relationship he wants with Mark, and he’s giddy, floating with the promise of it, if Mark wants this with him, if he doesn’t get so overwhelmed. It’s ridiculous. Johnny used to want to hold back so much, but being with Mark makes him want to be brave, to take bigger risks, to not guard his heart the way he has all these years.

In the month they’ve known each other, Johnny’s awoken with a smile on his face every damn day, and it feels so much like slipping into an endless summer.

The song comes to a close, and the band takes their final bow before the host comes back onstage to get the crowd to cheer for them. Johnny’s whooping with his hands over his head, the bottle of beer now lukewarm in his hand while Mark turns around and chugs his own bottle while looking at Johnny with mirth in his eyes.

Johnny is honestly not sure if watching a bro chug should look this hot, but then again Johnny’s never actually locked eyes with a bro while said bro’s Adam’s apple bobs from the beer he’s swallowing. If he wasn’t in public he would have probably gotten to half-mast just from watching Mark down an entire fucking bottle of room-temperature Red Horse.

Mark’s mouth pulls off from the bottle and Johnny has to tell himself to be respectful, to clear his mind of naughty thoughts, but it’s hard to do that when he tracks the movement of Mark’s tongue across his lips and says, “That was fun. What now?”

Johnny wants to kiss him. Johnny really, really wants to kiss him but he doesn’t know how to work his mouth to form words anymore. He is probably only capable of standing here as the crowd begins to file out of the venue and look at Mark all night, but then Mark smiles up at him, reaches up with his hand, warm on the back of Johnny’s neck, and brings his lips to Johnny’s.

Mark is kissing him.

Mark is _kissing_ him. He is kissing _Johnny,_ and Johnny’s brain kicks into hyperdrive, sending the command to kiss him back, tasting sweet from the whiskey and bitter from the beer, and Johnny’s hands find Mark’s waist, settling on the curves there as Mark tiptoes and deepens the kiss.

Somewhere to the side, Johnny hears their friends cheering for them, and he can’t help the smile that stretches his lips while Mark huffs out a breath against Johnny’s mouth.

Johnny certainly didn’t expect their first kiss to be here in the middle of a dimly lit bar filled with college students, but as Johnny pulls back to catch a breath and Mark’s cheeks warm up in his hands, Johnny figures that the timing couldn’t have been better.

He can still feel it, the magic of the evening, in between the guitar riffs and the crowd singing along and the heavy cymbals and now, inexplicably, the Black Eyed Peas playing on the sound system now that the gig is over.

 _What now_ , Mark had asked.

“Do you wanna come home with me?” Johnny leans in to ask, heart hammering in his chest.

Mark’s smile is radiant, his eyes even more so. “Yeah,” Mark says, breathless, his hands gripping Johnny’s shirt. “Yeah, I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> pare = pah-re = dude
> 
> Basta’t makasama ka, ako’y nakauwi na = as long as i'm with you, i am home
> 
> Pagkagising, panaginip ang dumalaw = when I wake, a dream has passed by


End file.
